White
by jamie2109
Summary: Rentboy!Harry


Disclaimer: Not Mine.

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Author's Notes: Something a touch different from me this time. Rentboy!Harry. Although couldn't go an entire story without some angst embedded. So, enjoy.

jamie

xxx

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White.

Not really a colour at all, it still was supposed to represent beauty and youth and purity…yes, _purity_. Harry almost laughed at that. What an odd thought to appear in his head, especially at a time like this. He was presently flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, legs wrapped around a regular that was rutting deep within him. The man was gasping as his orgasm rippled through him and making Harry feel rather ill. These days he spent a lot of time staring at the ceiling.

Purity was the last thing Harry felt applied to him, and yet he had chosen that colour for his ceiling…something to stare at as he mindlessly let anyone with enough Galleons and time fuck him. As he pushed the inert man off him, wincing as the half flaccid cock pulled out of him, he wondered if it was some subconscious desire to become pure. Or maybe it was a way of kidding himself that by staring at it hard enough when he came, he could have that whiteout that happens with a really great orgasm. The type that makes you close your eyes just to lose yourself in that 'white death'. Some way of retaining or even remembering the magic.

In truth, he couldn't remember the last time that had happened. No, actually that was a lie he kept telling himself so that he didn't have to admit that one client had got past the barriers he'd erected. In the five years since the war ended and his life had drifted from one failed romance to the next, one lost job to the next, only one man had even come close to making him feel like he might want to close his eyes during sex. Just to see if the white was there for him.

And he hated him for it.

"You can leave your money on the table as you go," he told the client disinterestedly, still staring up at the ceiling.

"Don't I always, Harry?" the man replied, heaving himself up off the bed to dispose of the condom. Harry at least insisted on using those, Muggle technology or not.

"You do. Thanks, Tim." It was strange how these odd thoughts just happened. Right when he least expected it. Tim was a regular and was nice to Harry. No kinky stuff; not that he minded some of the kinky stuff, but there was no aggression, Tim didn't hurt him. Not like some of the others. He should be grateful. Still, he rarely came anymore.

Only with _him,_ it seemed.

When he'd first fallen into this trap, he'd thought that he wasn't good for much else. There didn't seem to be a place for him in the wizarding world anymore. With Voldemort gone, people kind of left him alone. He'd done his job and they were happy, thank you very much, but no one wanted to have to deal with what he'd lost, what he'd had to go through to save them all. For a while he was bewildered at the lack of attention, but as time went on, he saw the guilt in their faces. They'd feel sorry for him and give him a job, but, he'd never had the time to learn all that much and so it seemed he was unsuitable for most of them, and the pity he saw in their eyes when they reluctantly let him go was too much.

"I'll be back next week, Harry," Tim said as he placed a pile of Galleons on the table. Harry only gave him weak smile, still staring at the ceiling. He hadn't moved, just lay there on the bed, legs spreadeagled, hands fisted in the sheets and nose twitching slightly at the smell of sex and Tim's cologne. "Buy yourself something nice, Harry, that might cheer you up." Tim's soft voice broke through his contemplation and he turned his head slowly to look at the dark-haired man.

"I don't do this for the money, I have plenty of that."

"Then, why?" Tim sat on the edge of the bed, leaning down to put his shoes on, not looking at him, not really wanting to know the ins and outs of why the Chosen One had become a whore. He was just being polite, Harry saw, and so he just shrugged, not caring to answer. Talk wasn't what Tim paid for anyway, and Harry went back to staring at the white ceiling.

A few moments later he heard the soft snick of the door as Tim left and he sighed. Why _did_ he do this again? It seemed such a long time ago that he hardly remembered anymore. Perhaps it was to feel needed again. Although he didn't like being needed quite the way _some_ of them needed him. He'd grown very competent at healing charms from the number of broken bones and cuts and sprains he'd received at the hands of some of his 'rougher' clients.

Most of them just drifted in and out of his bedroom, some for the novelty value of fucking a celebrity, excited and totally useless really. They never lasted long and after months of being disappointed that he got nothing from it, he eventually just accepted it. Once more, he was left alone, as he had been all his life. These clients came and went the same as everyone had always done. Everyone left him alone in the end.

As he heaved himself up off the bed to shower and prepare for his next client, he wondered what colour loneliness was. Perhaps the blue of his walls was loneliness. Not that it mattered, the dark blue of his walls only made the white brighter.

Was he even looking for the white anymore?

Thirty minutes later, he had showered and dressed, feeling marginally more human. There was fresh linen on the bed and he was hanging up the jacket that Tim had left behind. Quite a few clients did that, left things behind. At first, he thought it was deliberately done and they had been looking for an excuse to come back. He soon learnt that they either didn't bother, or if they did, then they were embarrassed and quickly collected the item and left. There was quite a collection of left behind clothing in this robe now.

He closed the door to the robe and turned around, leaning back on it with a sigh and looking around the room. In any other life, he might have thought it was a beautiful room. Now, its dark blue walls were a prison. It was neat, he had good furniture too, not too fancy or elaborate, but functional and of good quality. At the time he had decorated it, he had wanted to make this a nice place for his clients to come. If they felt at home, maybe they might stay longer than their allotted hour.

Four dark blue walls, a white ceiling, two rooms and a bathroom. That was the extent of his existence now. He never went out anymore, even his groceries were delivered to him, and he had his bills directed to Gringotts's where he had commissioned one of the goblins to pay them from his account. He received few owls these days. Mostly a monthly accounting from the bank, and occasionally he'd send one back with a huge pouch of Galleons from his earnings. Once in a while he received some fan mail, which he ignored and tossed in the fire. His appointment book was on a small stand outside his door. Clients used a magic quill to make their own appointments, the slots showing as taken but no names visible to anyone else. The only people he ever saw anymore were those whom he fucked.

Why did he do this again? It didn't seem that whatever he had been looking for was going to be found this way. Looking at his watch, he saw that he had only five minutes before his next client was due. _Fuck._ He still had to fix his hair. Malfoy always complained about it being messy, and today, he was just not in the mood for another argument.

Much had changed from their school days. They still argued over stupid things sometimes, although Harry was grateful that Malfoy had never once gloated over what Harry had been reduced to. Neither did he pity him. He just turned up every week at the same time, they'd talk or argue about nothing in particular, they'd fuck and Harry would fight to keep himself from closing his eyes. Then Malfoy would pay and leave.

Just once he would like to close his eyes as they fucked, because he always came with Malfoy, always. But he couldn't bring himself to. What if the white wasn't there? What if the thing, this _attraction_ he had been denying to himself, was all just a figment of his lonely imagination? That would have been the last straw, and so he pushed it away and denied to himself that he even thought like that. Mostly.

Malfoy's authoritative knock made him jump, and he ran his hands through the mess that was his hair and sighed. It was going to have to do. Heading for the door, he glanced round at the room once more to ensure that everything was in its place, then he slipped into character and affected a sway to his hips that was so well practiced it didn't even break his stride. He opened the door and leant on it provocatively, allowing the blond to enter the room.

"Right on time, Malfoy," he purred, watching him enter without a word. Harry turned to help him off with his coat and hang it on the stand beside the door. When he turned back, Malfoy was looking at him, angry for some reason. His nostrils were flaring and his eyes narrowed.

"Again, Potter?"

Harry of course had no idea what he was talking about.

"Again, what?" He tried not to be too antagonistic, but there hadn't even been a hello this evening. Searching Malfoy's face for some clue, he missed the sudden movement of Malfoy's hand as it cut stinging across his face.

"Fuck… what was that for?" Harry's own hand came up to feel the sore places and he glared at Malfoy, backing away. This was going to be another argument and…why the fuck did he care anyway? Malfoy was just another client. No better, no worse than any of the rest.

"I can smell him." Malfoy sneered and advanced on Harry, which frightened him slightly. This was a side of the blond that he hadn't seen before. He'd have to tread carefully, not anger him too much…but then his mouth ran off before he could stop it.

"Which one? There's been seven in here today."

Malfoy stopped for a fraction of a second and then he kept coming and Harry kept backing away.

"You know what I am, Malfoy, don't pretend that you don't, or that you have rights here."

"Regulars, Potter?" Malfoy's face was flushed and he reached Harry, grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him close. "I smell him every time I come here, and I'm sick of it!"

Was this jealousy? From _him?_ Harry's eyes widened and there was a slight flutter in his belly. "He pays me, same as you." They were very close, Malfoy's angry breath puffing over his face. For a moment, as Harry was watching his face, he thought that the angry blond was going to kiss him. It wouldn't take much, just a few inches.

He growled and turned his head, "No kissing, Malfoy, you know the rules."

That just seemed to infuriate him further and he shoved Harry back against the wall so hard that Harry's vision blurred. His arms came up to rest on Malfoy's shoulders, ostensibly to push him away, but then he heard the buttons of his shirt pinging around the room as it was ripped open and felt the furious heat of Malfoy's mouth on his skin. Harry's hands instinctively tried to push him away, but there were teeth latched onto his nipple and it stung as it was pulled along with Malfoy's body. So he stopped and whimpered instead, digging his nails into the broad shoulders in front of him.

_God_…this was making him hard, and he threw back his head and stared at the ceiling, wondering if this time… A loud groan interrupted his thoughts and he moved his hand with practiced ease down Malfoy's chest to his groin and squeezed. He knew he was just asking for trouble, but he couldn't stop himself whispering, "He's not my only regular, Malfoy."

Furious grey eyes met his challenging ones. _Go on Malfoy, make me see white…_ Then long fingers gripped his hair and pulled him towards the bedroom. _Yes_… He tried to resist, but Malfoy was too strong.

"I'm going to show you that you need no other regulars." There was a growl of possession in Malfoy's voice and it filled him with amazement. After two years of weekly sessions, _now_ Malfoy was trying to own him? Wait…what gave him the right? Harry stuck out his hands and hung onto the frame of the doorway to the bedroom as he was being dragged through it, squealing at the pain in his head as Malfoy hadn't stopped when Harry did.

"Fuck, Malfoy…you do not own me, you bastard, stop it!"

Sneering pink lips were right up in his face, and Harry's angry eyes looked them over and couldn't help the hitch in his breath at how pink they were. "I fucking own this hour Potter, and I don't expect to come in here and smell how much of a whore you are."

"I can fuck whoever I want!" Harry roared back, forgetting those luscious pink lips. Two hands reached round his waist and lifted him off the floor. He tried beating his fists against Malfoy's chest, but he was pushed back onto the dresser just outside his door, sending picture frames and the odd curio crashing to the floor. It jumped under his weight and rocked, crashing back into the wall, along with Harry's back as Malfoy held him there with one hand while he impatiently tore at Harry's trousers.

_Holy shit…_ Harry's heart was pounding in his chest, nothing had made him feel so…_alive?…_ for such a long time that he had no idea what it was that he was feeling exactly. His hips lifted to help remove his trousers, pressing both hands flat on the dresser to make a space. His cock sprung free, and… _oh fuck yeah…_it was harder than he had seen it in quite a while. Did he want to be owned by Malfoy? Was that why this was turning him on so much?

As Malfoy was fumbling with his own clothing, Harry's hands reached out tentatively to undo the top button of Malfoy's shirt, aware that suddenly things had become serious. He could push Malfoy's buttons all he liked but, _fuck,_ now he was as horny as hell and he wanted Malfoy inside him, as rough, and as hard as he could. Therefore, he was surprised that Malfoy's hand slapped his aside. Malfoy's voice, shaking with anger and repressed… _need,_ came low to him, almost a whisper. "Don't you touch me, Potter."

Harry's eyes widened at the pure emotion rolling off Malfoy, and he shivered and groaned. "Then fuck me like a whore, Malfoy." One hand dared to fist itself into Malfoy's silky blond hair and he fully expected to have to pay for the disobedience, but he didn't care. As he yanked down on it and braced himself for the reply, Malfoy's howl of rage sent shockwaves of arousal through him.

"Come on, Malfoy, I'm a whore, use me like one, that's what you want isn't it?" he goaded and was rewarded with the back of Malfoy's hand across his cheek, making him bite his lip so hard it bled, trickling from the corner of his mouth. _Yes…_His head was throbbing from the blow it received against the wall, his cheeks were blazing and aching and he was sure that bruises would show tomorrow, but for now, his skin was itching for Malfoy to touch him some more, hurt him, use him, _fuck…own him._ Brutal fingers in his hair wrenched his head to one side and his neck was attacked by sharp teeth and answered by pinching scratching nails and fingers over Malfoy's back.

Harry's legs lifted of their own accord and wrapped themselves around Malfoy's hips. He hooked his ankles and pulled Malfoy's body closer to his, in a burning quest for more contact. He moaned as their bodies crushed together trapping hard cocks between them, and his body began to tremble in need.

"That's it, Potter, spread your legs for me." Malfoy's voice growled deep and gruff into his ear. "And I'll show you…" Hands fought their way under his arse and picked him up, fingers digging harshly into his skin, spreading him, opening him. He clung to Malfoy, pressed groin to chest, hips rocking jerkily, rubbing, and he almost closed his eyes, needed to close them, but… he couldn't. They would finish this fuck and Malfoy would go on his way…if the white was there, Harry would be bereft and even lonelier than he was right now. To Malfoy, Harry was a whore and always would be, despite this uncharacteristic show of jealousy. Still, he was going to enjoy this.

Malfoy moved and staggered through the doorway, catching Harry's shoulder on the frame as they went. Harry could feel the movement of Malfoy's cock against his and his trembling intensified…._fucking hell,_ if he didn't get that heat inside him soon he was going to come early and ruin the whole thing. He bit down hard on his lip, moaning with the pain of teeth cutting already bruised and broken skin.

"Show me what, Malfoy?" he ground out as he was thrown unceremoniously onto his bed. Propping himself up on his elbows and spreading his legs wide, he knew what picture he made and he watched in smug satisfaction as grey eyes that were darkened with lust glued themselves to his rolling hips and wide open entrance, as he oiled his erection with quick frantic strokes. _Oh, yes…_

Malfoy didn't answer, just growled once more and knelt on the bed between Harry's legs, then leaned in, pushing them wider and braced himself on elbows either side of Harry's head. "Just hurry the fuck up, Malfoy." He tried to make his voice sound bored and slightly pissed off, but the insistent rubbing of Malfoy's cock at his entrance was driving him mad and the trembling started up again, so it came out as a pathetic little needy whimper.

"You've had your fun, taunting me, Potter. We're fucking my way, and I'll bury myself inside you and fuck you until you forget to think, when I'm good and ready." Involuntarily, Harry's hips bucked and he tried to arch into Malfoy, to get that cock inside him, and he groaned as Malfoy moved back slightly.

"Please…" he whimpered, not caring anymore how needy he sounded, how much like a whore he really sounded like. His eyes were begging into Malfoy's and he caught his breath at the depth of passion in them seen this close.

"You beg so sweetly…" Malfoy began as he shifted his hips and pushed the head of his cock through the tight muscle of Harry's anus, and all thoughts of condoms or even any preparation flew right out of Harry's head as he groaned…_fuck yes… _

Malfoy's voice cut through the groan, "…for a whore," and forced himself all the way inside until his balls were resting against Harry's arse. Harry almost screamed, and would have had he not felt so full and breached and so desperate for Draco to move and fuck him.

He flung his arms around Malfoy's shoulders and breathed a shaky, "Fuck me hard, Draco," and Malfoy pulled out once more and slammed back into him like a battering ram. Over and over again he rammed into Harry until Harry was panting and soaring somewhere up near his white ceiling. His legs were held tightly around Malfoy's waist, their eyes locked together, which scared Harry, but he couldn't look away. He was getting closer, all this intensity was pulling him under, leaving him poised on the edge and the urge to shut his eyes became so strong he whimpered.

"My whore, Harry… mine and no one else's…not ever again." Draco's voice was soft, full of need and possession. Harry sobbed, threw his head back and closed his eyes as his orgasm exploded within him and he saw nothing but white as he came all over his stomach, grasping and clinging to Draco with everything that he had. Draco came just a few moments later with a loud groan and they rode out their orgasms together, shaking in each other's arms.

Later, it may have been seconds later or minutes later, Harry had no idea, but when he opened his eyes, neither of them had moved. There was a large bubble of uncertain happiness in him, least he thought it was happiness, he couldn't remember the last time he had felt quite this…content. He didn't move, unwilling to be separated from this warmth just yet. He would allow himself to wallow in this glow for just a little longer and dwell on what had happened before Draco moved and took it all away.

He was still quite sure that whatever Draco had said was probably just in the heat of the moment, his temporary jealousy and Harry's own goading getting the better of his judgement. Temporarily. But…it would have all been worth it, he decided. He knew now, despite not wanting to know before, he did now and it felt right somehow, like, even though he would be left alone, there would always be a small part of him that was never lonely, because he had known _this…_

There was a smile on his face and he gazed up at the white ceiling, seeing for the first time that it was a flat white, no light or shade, no _life._ The white he'd just seen had been lined with streaks and bursts of gold and silver, not flat at all. He made a resolution to paint the ceiling as soon as he could. That white was just a poor replica of the real thing.

Draco stirred, groaning and moved to lie beside Harry. He missed the comforting weight and the warmth of Draco's body covering his, but he sighed and realised that their hour was almost certainly up and Draco would be leaving anyway. His body ached, and his head was still thumping, but he felt as he never had before, and never allowed himself to feel with Draco in the two years they had been shagging. He turned his head to look at the man lying beside him and couldn't help reaching out to brush some of the blond hair from his face. The soft touch caused Draco to turn to look at him and smile. Harry gave a small smile in return.

"You can have that one for free," he said, thinking that he well and truly deserved that one for nothing. Draco frowned and rolled onto his side so that he was facing Harry.

"I plan on having all of them for free from now on, Harry." Draco's voice was soft, but determined and there was a slight blushing across his cheekbones. Harry was surprised… and a little angered.

"You'll have to pay, Malfoy, just like the rest of them," he retorted hotly, turning to get up off the bed. A hand restrained him, dragging him back.

"No, I told you, you're mine and no one else's." Harry turned to look at him in the eyes, uncertain of his meaning, secretly hoping, but eyes flashing in anger once more.

"You expect me to give this up? Just like that? Keep myself for you and you alone? For _free?_" Typical fucking Malfoy, Harry thought angrily, expecting to just lift his finger and have everyone fall all over themselves to do his bidding. Well, fuck him, the sooner he left the better.

Malfoy nodded slowly. "That's exactly what I mean. I want you exclusively."

"Get out! Your time is up." Harry sneered and saw with satisfaction that Malfoy flinched at the venom in his voice. He forcefully shook Malfoy's hand from his arm and stood up with his arms crossed, furious.

"Come on, Potter. You can't tell me that what we just did meant nothing to you." Draco's face was a picture of confusion and he sat up, but Harry wasn't prepared to give him any leeway and he smirked down at him.

"I fuck people every day, Malfoy. What makes you think that meant any more than any other man that's stuck his cock up my arse?"

Malfoy had the cheek to smile at him, the fucking _cheek!_ "Because you've never closed your eyes when we've fucked before, Harry."

_Fuck._ Harry paled. "Maybe, but that doesn't mean I'm going to hand myself over to you like a trophy. So you can hide me away and make me your dirty little secret, on hand for a fuck whenever your dick tells you it needs one." Harry was coarse and rough. Malfoy should just leave. _Now._ He was on the verge of tears. Fine, he might hide himself away from the world and be lonely and disillusioned about his life, but at least he was in charge of it. He chose it. If he were to be kept by Malfoy, he would have no choice about anything, and truth be told, he would feel cheated. He wanted more from Malfoy. After _that…_he wanted more. His eyes flickered towards the ceiling and he shook his head.

"I don't want that either," Malfoy hurried to correct Harry, his face worried.

"What is it that you want, then?"

"I want…" Malfoy sighed and ran a hand through his hair, nervously. "I want you," he finally finished.

"As your whore." Harry's voice was flat now. This was getting them nowhere. "That's what you said. Your whore that will spread his legs whenever you want… for free."

"No!" Malfoy almost roared. He pushed himself off the bed to grab Harry by the arms. "No, you idiot! I want to date you properly, take you places, spend time with you."

Harry just gaped at him for a few moments, his brain momentarily faltering. It took a few moments for it to start up again and when it did, he frowned. Had he really just heard that? Could he possibly believe it?

"But... why now?" he asked, voice uncertain. "We've been doing this for two years and you've never…"

Draco pulled him closer. "I've wanted to. You've no idea of how sick I'd feel every time I left here, every time I thought of you with someone else."

"But, why now?" His eyes searched Draco's face, looking, watching for the truth. He saw Draco shrug and close his eyes for a second as if gathering the courage.

"You opened the door, I smelled _his_ cologne and it was just the last straw. I could ignore what you were doing if there was no trace of anyone before me, or you didn't kick me out to get ready for your next client." His words were gentle, not critical, or accusatory, just the truth. Harry held his breath, waiting for more. "You were standing at the door, looking beautiful," he whispered, tracing his fingers along Harry's chin. "So beautiful, I snapped. I want you for my own, Harry."

"Why?" Harry squeaked.

Draco emitted a small chuckle and his fingers made their way to his lips and brushed over them softly. "Oblivious as always, aren't you, Harry?" At Harry's look of confusion, Draco sighed and muttered something Harry was sure was "Gryffindors!" with a wry smile on his face. "Why do you think I've been coming here for the last two years? Why do you think we spend most of our hour talking, instead of fucking? And why do you think I'm jealous of every fucking guy that walks through your door?"

Harry's eyes widened and he squeaked once more, "It's not the sex then?"

"No, it's not the sex, amazing as that is. It's you, Harry. For the longest time I tried to deny that I felt anything for you at all. When I first came here, it was mostly for the sex, I'll admit that, but then it became a way to be able to see you and spend time with you. I never thought you'd give me the time of day otherwise. The great Harry Potter would never willingly spend his time with an ex-Death Eater."

Harry looked up belligerently at that. "I might have. People haven't exactly been queuing up to be my friend since the end of the war."

"More fool them," Draco whispered, stroking Harry's cheek with his thumb as his hand cupped his face. "They're missing something special."

"They are?" Harry didn't think he'd ever squeaked so much in his entire life as he had tonight. Draco nodded.

"I think I'm falling for you…no, I _know_ I already have."

_Oh, Lord…_ that was the right thing to say. Harry pushed Draco back onto the bed, straddling his thighs and resting his elbows beside Draco's head, their chests pressed together. He looked down into those grey eyes and smiled, allowing his line of sight to gaze over his pink lips, those ones he had so badly wanted to kiss before. Now, he smiled once more and whispered. "I haven't kissed anyone in a long, long time, Draco. There seems to be an unwritten rule for whores; they don't kiss clients, it's too intimate…"

With a smile, he leant forward and pressed his lips against Draco's, tenderly at first, but as the soft lips moved with his, he groaned and deepened the kiss, gently probing with his tongue and sighing in complete happiness as Draco's mouth opened under his. For the longest time they kissed, Harry relearning what it was like to feel that intimate touch, to smell and taste and experience.

When at last they broke apart for air, Harry looked down at Draco a tender smile on his face. "Do you think an ex-whore and an ex-Death Eater could really be happy together?"

"I think so, Potter, as long as you know your place," Draco joked, with a pasted on sneer, which Harry knew was pretence. Harry laughed and threw himself down on the bed beside Draco.

"Oh, I know my place, _Malfoy…_This is the bedroom and out there, in a shambles because of your jealousy might I add, is my living room and through there…"

"You…_Potter,_ are moving out of this place…those walls…they're blue and they make me feel lonely."

Harry stilled in wonder. It wasn't just him after all.

"I'll go wherever you are," he finally whispered, pulling Draco close and kissing him once more as he lost himself in pure, dazzling white.


End file.
